Counterpoint
by idreamof
Summary: Mini sequel to Senza Sordino - just a little timestamp set the day after. Warnings for language, suicidal themes, and discussions of depression and mental illness.


AN: This is a timestamp-ish-thing set the day after Senza Sordino, and probably won't make much sense unless you read that first. Anything you recognize I don't own.

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Dr. Ryan keeps her hand on Wes's shoulder as she ushers him out of the room to where Travis is waiting in the hallway. Wes's eyes are suspiciously red, but he stays silent as Dr. Ryan stops him right in front of his partner.

"Ready to go, man?" Travis asks softly. Wes says nothing, keeping his gaze firmly averted to the ground, so Travis slings a forcedly casual arm around his shoulder. He notices the piece of paper firmly grasped in Wes's white-knuckled grip, and gives Dr. Ryan a questioning look. She gives him a sad smile, but says nothing, so he turns his attention to his partner. "Wes?" he prompts.

Wes stills says nothing, just wordlessly hands the piece of paper to Travis, who gives it a quick once-over.

"Prescription… for…" Travis trails off, not recognizing the drug name.

"Zoloft," Dr. Ryan says, "an antidepressant." Travis feels his heart clench. This is real. This is happening. Wes is falling apart – Wes _has _fallen apart – and they're desperately trying to put back the pieces. "And we'll talk again on Wednesday, alright, Wes?" Wes still makes no motion to indicate that he has heard her, so Travis gives Dr. Ryan a shaky smile, and leads Wes out the door to his car.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet. Travis drives, and Wes doesn't even complain, and Travis can't help but be bothered by that. It's the little things, as Travis is realizing. It's the faraway look Wes has had in his eyes more often than not since the incident the night before. It's the apathetic attitude, the slump of his shoulders. Travis can't help but wonder if all of this is new, or if maybe he just didn't see it before.

He can't help but wonder if all the signs were there for him to see and that he just didn't take the time to notice them.

He can't help but wonder if there was something he could have done to prevent what had almost happened the previous night.

He'd spent the night on Wes's couch, unable to sleep – unable to do anything but sit and watch helplessly as his partner tossed and turned in his bed. It wasn't even seven in the morning when he finally gave up trying to relax and got up, only to discover that Wes wasn't sleeping either: Wes was just lying curled up on his side, eyes wide open, staring at nothing.

He'd pulled his partner out of bed, gotten him dressed, and taken him out to breakfast, which had turned out to be a useless endeavour since Wes hadn't even touched his food, just stared at it for a few minutes before giving up and turning his head to gaze blankly at some point past Travis's ear. They'd made it to see Dr. Ryan at nine, as planned, and Travis was left sitting in the hallway for over an hour, during which time he'd taken out his phone and looked up sites explaining symptoms of depression on that tiny screen.

Some didn't fit.

Too many did.

Loss of appetite, loss of weight – Travis couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Wes eat a real meal. Wes had always been slim, light, but lately Travis couldn't help but notice that he seemed to have crossed the line into frail, downright tiny.

Irritability – and how many times had Travis remarked on it? How many times had Travis intentionally baited him?

Headaches and chronic pain – how many days in a row had Travis seen Wes get that pinched look on his face and subtly down a few Advil and not said anything?

Working too much, negativity, anger, loss of interest in activities previously enjoyed…

Wes did nothing but work. Wes hardly ever smiled. Wes never wanted to do anything fun anymore. It was all there, and Travis hated that he hadn't even remotely suspected that something was so wrong.

And as if that wasn't enough, there was everything Wes had admitted to in his outburst that night on the roof: hopelessness, sadness, loneliness, worthlessness, anxiety…

Thoughts of suicide… suicide attempts.

Potential causes: stress at work, relationship problems, _verbal abuse…_

Travis hated himself.

He'd failed as a partner, he'd failed as a friend, and here they were trying to fix Wes, and Travis honestly didn't know if they could do it.


End file.
